


Silver Dust

by fiblertSOS



Series: Silver Dust [1]
Category: Witch's Heart (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, college people being horny and emotionally confused, college people being stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiblertSOS/pseuds/fiblertSOS
Summary: A History major learns the meaning of jealousy; a florist dreams of emptiness.This is an ode to their insistent, long-lasting stupidity.





	1. A Good Day for Ashe Bradley

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been sitting out on posting this for a long time... I hope you enjoy my dumb Wilashe bullshit!  
> Feedback is always appreciated!

At the beeping of his phone's alarm, Ashe's eyes slowly opened. He sat on his dorm bed, yawning heartily and clumsily grabbing his simple, slightly outdated phone.

"My my, 6:45 already..." He yawned once more. God, just how much did the previous week's all nighters mess his biological clock up? He hadn't been this tired in a good while. "Gotta get up, gotta get up... Even though I really don't feel like it..."

Hopping off of bed with a small jump as customary, Ashe grabbed his yellow hair ribbon off the nightstand and ran off to his dorm's bathroom, feeling like he would just fall back into the bed had he stayed near it any longer. In his humble opinion, that kind of feeling was the worst: the one when your body fails to match the energetic spirit that lies inside. As someone who has dedication and initiative come as second nature, Ashe couldn't say he was fond of the manner his body screamed at him to go back to bed as he washed his face and brushed his teeth.

The man groaned as he looked up to the mirror, only to note that his eyes were lined with very dark rings around them. The situation was getting a little bit ridiculous, now. He blinked slowly, opening the white mirror cabinet in front of him and reaching for his hair brush.

The next few minutes were silent, with Ashe slowly and indolently brushing lock after lock of middle back-length turquoise hair, eyes closed as he swayed from one side to the other sleepily. God, what would he do to simply go back to bed... Unfortunately enough, however, skipping class that day in particular would not be possible: it was the day his assignment on the XV century Witch Hunts would be graded, and even possibly nominated for a presentation for the entire University, after all! He couldn't simply sleep by that, now could he?

With a loud buzz, Ashe's phone vibrated, sliding off the corner of the sink and crashing down to the floor with a sharp clack, causing its owner to jump and unwittingly drop the hairbrush in his hand. Ashe quickly moved his hand to his chest to calm his now racing heart, glancing over to the still buzzing phone on the floor.

Well, at least he couldn't say he was all that sleepy anymore. 

He bent over and picked the phone and brush back up: more than slightly relieved to see no damage was done to it in the fall.

"Uh... H-hello?!" He shouted, attempting to force his usual energy into his own voice. 

"Ow!" A female voice yelped from the other side of the call. "Inside voice, Ashe! Geez!"

"Oh! Miss Claire...!" He exclaimed, a little more toned back this time around. He felt a warm rush of blood ascend to his face. What a way to lose face in front of a lady...! "For what reason do you call me this early in the morning?"

"Well, I--ahh," Claire Elford pulled away from her phone for a second in order to yawn loudly: Ashe couldn't help but let out a small giggle at that, "I wasn't sure if I was gonna be able to meet you before your classes, so I woke up early to tell you Noel and I want to commemorate you finishing that monster of a monograph, so you should meet up with us this afternoon!"

Ashe paused for a second. Commemoration...? For him?

"...Are you sure, Miss Claire?" The tone of his voice sounded worried; he caught himself,however, and gave an awkward laugh before resuming. " Haha, I mean, you know I'm always in for a party, but this... It's just a monograph! It isn't even my thesis!"

As he had said, it wasn't exactly the "going to a party" part that created that sudden uneasiness in Ashe's mind; rather, the idea of him and his friends going out, spending time and money, simply to commemorate a finished assignment made him a little bit anxious. Was it that important...?

Pressing his phone against his ear with one shoulder so he could free both of his hands, he began braiding his hair, tightly coiling three large turquoise locks into each other in a flawlessly orderly fashion.

Claire huffed.

"I know, I know. There's still a long way till your thesis, right? Your post-grad's just begun!"Ashe could visualize the pout on her sleepy face as she spoke, and smiled. Adorable. "I'm not that stupid, okay?! Noel and I just wanted to do something nice for you and take the opportunity to let you breathe some fresh air, since you've been locked away in your dorm for almost three weeks now!"

"Ah, I see...!" Ashe gasped dramatically, earning a mocking sigh from the opposite end of the call. "So it is all a ruse to get me to leave the campus! How ingenious! ...All jokes aside, though, I'd be glad to join you if you insist so. I still can't see the reason to commemorate a monograph of all things, but I do admit I've been craving the outside world a little bit."

"Okay, then!" Claire replied happily, "Meet us after lunch, all right? We'll go out into the town and party away! I have to get you a little something I had made, too~!"

"Hmmmm?" Ashe piped up. If his interest wasn't piqued before, the prospect of a mystery present definitely did the trick. " 'Had made', you say...? Could I know what it is?"

"Not ahead of time, dummy! Beh!" Claire noisily stuck her tongue at the phone, and Ashe couldn't hold back the giggle fit that overcame him. "You're gonna have to wait until we go get it!"

Ashe's long fingers trembled in his hair as he kept giggling at Claire's childish movement. Desperately holding his phone with his shoulder as it shook with laughter, he gasped for air once the fit had passed over. He felt fully awake now, and in no small part due to blue-haired girl's endless, utterly contagious positive energy. 

Ashe felt himself wishing to, one day, be able to retribute all of it. Repay her for all of the joy she provides him.

"All right then! I shall await my gift with bated breath!" He exclaimed, holding his finished braid with one hand while expertly tying his ribbon around it with the other. Stopping to admire his handiwork in the mirror for a second, he finally took his phone back from his already aching shoulder. "Now, go back to sleep, you! It's Wednesday, you don't have classes until 10, correct? I don't want to interfere with your sleep!"

"Yeah, yeah I should..." Claire yawned again, having been reminded of the time. "Good luck with the grading, Ashe! See you after lunch!"

"See you, miss Claire! Have a good morning's rest!" 

With this, Ashe turned off the call before Claire could come up with something else to talk about. Girl was terrible in ending conversations, even worse than Ashe "Motormouth Supreme" Bradley himself. The young man grinned to himself, still tired yet somewhat revitalized, and reentered his bedroom. Setting his phone on the nightstand once more, he searched the drawers for something presentable to wear, and decided on a dark green turtleneck and beige jeans for the day. While the day wasn't cold enough to warrant such warm clothing, it wasn't exactly hot, either; and Ashe has always preferred clothing with enough volume to make up for his tall yet thin build.

Picking up his beige messenger bag from a chair and sliding his phone into his jeans' back pocket, Ashe's bright yellow eyes slowly set on a framed picture, nestled on his work desk. His bright smile faltered, and he sighed, turning his body towards the door.

"Mom," He whispered, "Dad, Sis... I'll stay outside a bit late tonight, but I promise I'll come back soon, okay...?"

Falling silent, Ashe Bradley left his dorm.

\--

"Ehh?! A revision?!" Claire exclaimed, indignantly, "You've worked so hard on that, and they're asking you to rewrite part of it?!"

"It happens, Claire..." Noel sighed, shaking his head. "...Especially if they're considering publishing it, like in this case. At any rate, I'm very sorry, Ashe..."

As planned, Ashe ran over to Claire's dorm building after lunchtime, only to find both Claire and Noel already waiting for him, chatting happily about constellations or something. After talking it over a little bit, all three decided to go downtown for some cake and to window shop; something they did quite often but, due to Ashe's assignment, hadn't had the chance to do for weeks. 

"No no no!" Ashe piped up, beaming. Both Claire and Noel had to pick up their pace in order to keep up with the quick pitterpatter of Ashe's long, hyperactive legs. "I am absolutely okay with this turn of events! No need to worry for me at all!"

"But, but Ashe...!" Claire whined, pouting at him. "We just got to hang out with you again and you'll have to rewrite your thing?! That's not fair!"

"It's for a good cause, though! My monograph's going to be published in a World History magazine!" The turquoise-haired young man skipped a step, turning back at Claire to grin at her. "It will tire me out, absolutely, but I'm ecstatic about the opportunity my teachers gave me!"

"Just... Don't work yourself sick, all right...?" Noel said warily, smiling politely.

"Will do, Mister Levine!" 

Ashe turned forward again, and started sprinting towards the confectionery the three friends often had their desserts in. Noel and Claire turned at each other, staring for a moment, before breaking down into loud, joyous laughter: and running down the town's streets after their dear friend. 

"Good afternoon, miss! Long time no see, huh?!" As they arrived at the confectionery, Noel and Claire witnessed Ashe, already leaning against the shop's counter and talking to the (slightly bemused) baker. "Do you, by any chance, have any boysenberry cheesecake ready? If so, I'd love to have myself a piece!" 

"Hey, Ashe, wait up!" Claire rushed to Ashe's side, tapping her fingers on the counter excitedly. "Don't go on ordering all by yourself! Hey hey, I want that mini-shortcake you guys make!"

The taciturn baker nodded wordlessly, before beginning to walk away. Her eyes locked onto Noel, who had just arrived at a leisurely pace, and turned back, sighing.

"I am so very sorry about these two, as always..." Noel muttered shyly, sighing and pointing at his friends, "They're simply a bit excited, since something good just happened. Oh, and as for me, a lemon roll cake piece is more than enough."

The baker looked at Noel, then at Claire, and finally at Ashe. Her pursed lips slowly broke out into a weak smile, and she hurried away to manage their orders. 

Noel sighed; both Claire and Ashe giggled, albeit quieter than before due to Noel's stern glare. That particular chain of events was very frequent between them, and all three were relieved to be able to experience it once more before Ashe was pulled back into his assignments. Even though it had been only four months since Claire and Noel had enrolled into the University and met each other and Ashe, a post-graduation student, these small, pointless, and yet fun outings had become part of their routines: a tinge of sweetness to balance out the sourness of a stressful college life. While Noel and Claire understood Ashe's situation, they couldn't help but miss these hangout sessions while he was away.

They'd better savor the sweetness of that day.

\--

The sun had already started to set when Ashe left the confectionery, along with Noel and Claire. They ended up chatting about their lives before entering college, and endlessly complaining about their assignments and classes. Claire had even apologized for "wasting their day like that", but Ashe did not mind it in the slightest. As much as he loved talking, he also enjoyed hearing other people's experiences as well, and trying to learn something from said experiences. For him, this day could not have been better. He wouldn't admit it anytime soon: but he had dearly missed having time with Claire and Noel as well.

"So, so!" He beamed, mockingly marching through the darkening streets behind Claire. "Is it time for the elusive mystery present of yours, Miss Claire?"

"Almost there, almost there!" Claire cheered in a singsong voice. "Don't rush it, I bet you'll love it when you get it!"

"You know that does nothing for my excitement, do you not?!" The young man exclaimed, in a jokingly insulted tone.

"Ahh, you two..." Noel sighed, then turned his head to the side and quietly snorted a half-laugh. "Come on now, we're almost at the place. Look!"

Noel raised his arm, and pointed at something in the distance. Ashe's golden eyes looked forward, then upwards: a small, poorly lit sign stood over a dark alley. 

Adler Floriculture.

Ashe tilted his head as he walked towards the place Noel indicated, braid slowly slipping off from his shoulder. It looked like a poor, shady place at best; a complete wreck of a back alley at worst. Was that even a suitable place to cultivate flowers in...?

"Is... Is this really the place, Miss Claire?" Ashe asked cautiously, not wanting to disappoint her with his words. "A floriculture in a back alley like this... I can't say I've ever seen something like this."

Claire turned back at Ashe, stuck out her tongue and gave him a thumbs up.

For the first time, this did not reassure Ashe about anything.

"Don't worry, Ashe." Noel smiled, gently putting a hand on Ashe's shoulder. "I've been in there with her. Apparently, this is a place that's been gaining a lot of popularity since it opened a year ago, so Claire insisted for us to come visit it three weeks ago. While I can't say I like the owner, I can at least say he is very skilled."

Ashe stood in front of the alley's entrance, where a single oaken door could be seen. Sighing deeply, he took a step forward. 

"...All right, then, I'm trusting you two! I hope this fames 'mystery present' is worth this adventure!" He proclaimed, stepping towards the door and opening it, triggering a jingling sound.

Taking a look around as he entered the floriculture, Ashe could already safely assume he was wrong about the state of the building. It was most definitely small, but nowhere as dirty and fragile-looking as it appeared from the outside; the walls a pure white, and turquoise ornate tiles lining the floor. Various assortments of flowers, both by species and in premade arrangements, covered shelf after wooden shelf, fitting perfectly around each other like a natural puzzle. The small counter at the front of the shop was currently unmanned, and a small bell sat atop it, along a business card holder and a small shelf containing various bags of seeds that, judging by the species names handwritten in blue marker, were manually harvested. 

"My oh my..." Ashe slowly covered his mouth with one hand as he left the door open for Noel and Claire to enter. "What a well-kept place...! I would never have assumed that from the outside...! Impressive!"

"Didn't I tell you?!" Claire beamed proudly. "Wil's shop is amazing! He's super talented, just you watch! I can't wait for you to meet him!"

Ashe tilted his head a bit, frowning a little as Claire ran to the counter and mashed the bell's button. "Wil"...? Not even first name basis, but a nickname...? Such intimate terms, even for Claire. What had he missed in the three weeks...? 

Maybe, just maybe, as a hypothesis, Claire had... Found herself a...

Thankfully, before Ashe could finish his train of thought, a gruff voice responded from behind the door, quite obviously dismayed by the disastrous bell noises Claire was producing.

"You're gonna break the damn bell." "Wil"'s tone was harsh and conclusive, almost sounding like an order. Ashe's frown deepened: not only was he not in love with this guy's tone, he could swear this voice was not unfamiliar to him. "We've been through this already, Claire."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm here to grab the arrangement I asked you for three days ago," Claire shouted, practically bouncing from excitement, "And I've got a friend I want you to meet tonight!"

"...Eh?" The confusion in the man's voice was almost palpable. "Why the hell would you want to bring a friend here? It's cramped enough already. Send'em away and let me finish pollinating already."

Ashe slowly walked towards the counter himself, making sure to glance up at Noel as he did so. Noel's dark blue eyes were narrowed, and, while his expression was as gentle as always, Ashe could clearly feel disdain in the blonde's stance and behavior. Truly enough, Noel did not seem to enjoy this person's presence even half as much as Claire did.

And that was enough to put Ashe on edge as well.

"Wil, come on!" Claire whined, ringing the bell a few more times and making both Noel and Ashe wince. "Stop being so grumpy and come out with my bouquet already!"

After a second of tense silence, the door behind the counter flew open, and Ashe's eyes widened with realization.

A man emerged into the room, cradling an admittedly beauitful large arrangement of white and yellow flowers. Short stature, slightly slouched shoulders, short, dark blue hair with a ginger streak in the middle, half bound by a brass clasp with a strange design. Reddish-brown eyes and thick, perpetually frowning eyebrows... 

Ashe definitely knew who this was: he just had never bothered to learn his name.

"Fine, then. Here I am." The owner of Adler Floriculture sighed, rolling his eyes at Claire. "Now where's your goddamn friend, so I can send them-- oh."

The man stopped on his tracks, eyes widening in surprise, not unlike Ashe's, before cocking an eyebrow at the turquoise-haired man.

"...Aren't you from post-grad?" He asked, looking at Ashe as if he had grown an extra head. "History, I think...? I see you run around almost every day. Huh, never thought you'd be into flowers."

Ashe laughed weakly, not really knowing how to respond. He has seen this man so many times in the post-grad building: usually quietly smoking in a corner, cutting class. He had never learned his name; all he had ever thought about him was that he was probably a hooligan that took nothing seriously, and probably bought off his first graduation. 

To meet him in such a peaceful and beautiful place, nay, to find out that Claire had been endearing herself to a man like this... Everything was suddenly a little bit too surreal for Ashe to process. 

"I... could say the same to you, ahaha..." Ashe stuttered, his voice hesitant. "N-never thought you'd be a florist."

"Yeah, well, shit happens." The man glared at him before shrugging, making the flowers in his arms bounce lightly. "So, this for you? Come get it, then."

"Oh...!" Ashe stepped forward, arms reaching out to receive the bouquet. "Thanks...!"

To his surprise, however, the man turned the flowers away from him in a sudden movement.

"Nope," He said sharply. "Not like that. You'll hug it, and kill at least half of the flowers. One arm up, one down."

Ashe's nervous smile widened, and he felt his eye twitch a little. Was this guy for real...? Was CLAIRE for real, thinking they would get along?

"Here," Ashe muttered shakily, repositioning his arms. "Good enough?"

"Whatever," The man replied flatly, handing Ashe the flower arrangement with an awkward amount of gentleness and care. "Here you go."

Ashe took the opportunity of having the lower half of his face covered by the large bouquet to grit his teeth in anger. He had thought that, since Claire seemed to like this man, maybe he was wrong about his character. Especially with such a delicate and beautiful craft such as floriculture. But as it turns out, he thought, I was right. This guy's a complete douchebag...! 

"So, Wil!" Claire exclaimed, making both men turn to her, "This is Ashe Bradley! You said you know him from campus, right? Did you know his name?"

"Nah, never stopped to talk to him." "Wil" shrugged, and turned back to Ashe, brown eyes narrowing. "Wilardo Adler, by the way. Post-graduating in Botany. Do not call me 'Wil', like Claire does. She only does that because she apparently doesn't give half a shit about what I tell her not to do."

Claire laughed despite the harshness of her friend's words, beaming happily, and the man named Wilardo looked back at her once more with a light sigh, both his eyes and stance softening at the sight of her. Ashe's jaw clenched even harder, to the point of hurting: his blood boiled with anger.

Was Claire seriously interested in this guy, of all people? Apparently, he was a popular florist these days, but him getting this close to Claire was absolutely unacceptable. What did he plan with her? What was he going to do to her once she got close enough...? 

He could completely understand Noel's attitude towards this man now.

"Careful with the bouquet there." Wilardo called out, as flatly as physically possible. "If you keep shaking like that, you'll crush it all the same."

At that moment, Ashe's golden eyes met Wilardo's brown ones, and what Ashe saw in them was... A hint of malice.

His rage had been noticed.

He was being mocked.

"If that's all, then see ya." Ashe could swear he saw a smirk in Wilardo's lips before the other turned away and reentered the stock room. "'Please come again', Claire, Noel. Ashe."

Somehow, Ashe felt that day maybe hadn't been as great as he had first thought.


	2. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was turning out to be more of a problem than Ashe first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very sure about this chapter, but here we go, I guess!
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated!
> 
> PS: Oh yeah, check out the cover for this fic I made a while back!   
> http://fiblertsos.tumblr.com/post/173562860847

Ashe roughly sat on his chair, throwing his messenger bag on the floor and frowning deeply at the large, yet quite discreet, bouquet of flowers that now lay onto his workdesk. His bright yellow eyes narrowed, trained onto the arrangement in front of him: as much as Wilardo's behavior had pissed him off, Ashe had to admit that his newfound fame was very well justified. 

The spacing, color and visual composition of the flowers was indeed wonderful to look at, the natural scent of the component of the bouquet mingled spectacularly, and, judging by the premade sets he had seen at the front of the store, that level of attention to detail was probably on-brand for the store. Ashe sighed, begrudgingly: as much as he wished he could throw the damn thing away as a petty, one-sided way of communicating his spite for its craftsman, he simply could not bring himself to trash something so wonderfully made. 

Especially with the small, sky blue card containing "Congratulations!" written in Claire's handwriting he had found inside.

Ashe swore to God, that woman would be the death of him one day.

"Uuurgh..."Ashe moaned, slamming his face onto the wooden surface and throwing his hands forward, careful not to touch his well-meaning gift. "Really now, Claire...? Who in the heavens have you been endearing yourself to while I was gone...?"

After sighing to himself a few times, Ashe rose up from his seat and walked just enough to be able to belly flop onto his bed, groaning as he kicked off his shoes and undid his braid, throwing his hair ribbon over the nightstand. Thinking about how he could shower the next day, he tightly hugged his pillow and closed his eyes.

For some strange reason, he couldn't help but feel something would be different from that day on.

\--

The next day, Ashe found himself rushing to his first period's lecture. Being punctual was a very cautiously trained habit for him; falling asleep in the shower like in that particular case was very very rare, he could swear! 

His still damp braid flopping pathetically against his back, the man ran across the post-graduates' campus, quickly shouting greetings to everyone he came across. Corridor after corridor, the buildings had never seemed so massive to Ashe, who had started to run out of breath after almost 10 minutes of nonstop running. 

Seeing himself forced to stop and lean against a wall to wheeze, hand clutching his own chest, Ashe let out a pained groan. While he was used to run at top speeds, he had not had a good night's sleep and, adding that factor to his previous exhaustion, his whole body felt like it could fall apart at any moment. He coughed, looking at his shaking hands and clenching them, fruitlessly trying to will this weakness away. 

"You should just skip it already." A deep, smooth voice coming from some feet ahead of him advised. "You're not getting there in time."

Ashe froze, feeling his heart immediately turn to stone. 

Are you fucking kidding me?

"A-Adler." Ashe choked, having to stop and cough before resuming, "I apologize for the brashness, but... I'm not like you. I attend lectures, not skip them." 

Wilardo Adler walked towards Ashe, hands inside his crimson jacket's pockets, looking down at the turquoise-haired man's hunched over figure with a neutral expression on his face.

"Looks like you're not attending this one, though," Wilardo turned his head to the corridor, hair clasp making a metallic sound as it flowed along with short navy locks. "Classes started around 3 minutes ago."

"T-then I should go, correct...?" Ashe gasped, hacking a little more before straightening himself out. "It's still not too late, so if you'd excuse me, I--"

As Ashe started sprinting once again, a hand firmly grabbed his arm and pulled, almost causing Ashe to stumble onto the ground with the recoil. Looking back at the other man indignantly, Ashe saw Wilardo's face, inches from his own, looking up at him with a sharp glare. 

An oppressive, hostile air felt like it was closing in on them, and Ashe felt like the other's reddish-brown eyes could burn a hole through his eye sockets. While his first instinct was to try and escape from this strange man's grasp, Ashe could feel his own muscles freeze, as if they were Wilardo's, and not his, to command.

"If this is about Claire," Wilardo murmured quietly, as if he would rather not be heard by others, "We should have a nice talk. And soon."

"I--"

Even before Ashe could formulate any kind of response, Wilardo let go of his arm, pushing his back forward with his free hand. Gently tilting his head to the side, the shorter man waved at him, grinning with the burning malice Ashe knew was present the former night as well.

"Have a nice lecture, Bradley."

Taking a second to glare back at the other's smiling figure, Ashe resumed his running, a slight feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

What was he getting himself into...?

\--

Ashe sighed heavily, staring at the tall, blonde male sitting across from him. It wasn't like him to directly involve anyone in his own personal issues, especially someone close to him in his daily life: but he had the feeling that if anyone could explain and solve what was happening, it would be the resident gentle giant, Noel Levine.

"So..." Noel began, rather nervously looking around the slightly crowded Italian restaurant Ashe had dragged him into, "...Why the sudden call for lunch? And just us two?"

"Can't a man call another for some quality time?" Ashe grinned, clasping his hands together, but faltered after seeing Noel's unamused expression. "Weeeeell, there are simply some subjects that are better spoken only between men, you see?"

He giggled nervously, closing his eyes if only to avoid his friend's inquisitive gaze. Three months was more than enough time for Ashe to learn his newfound friends' quirks and tells: and he was perfectly aware of the serious, piercing gaze directed at him at that moment. Noel was polite and gentle, yes, but also tended to take things very seriously, very fast.

This was going to be an awkward conversation, that was something Ashe was certain of even he Ashe had called Noel in. 

"...Is it something you don't want Claire to know?" Noel inquired slowly, his voice drastically dropping in volume. "I can't see any other reason for you to only call me here, Ashe."

Ashe's golden eyes slowly opened back again, narrowing to extremely tight slits to meet with Noel's own grave expression. It wasn't like he had anything to lose from this conversation, since Claire absent from it. Given by his posture at the floriculture, Noel would give nothing but his absolute support to Ashe's cause. And it was not like Ashe would ask about anything other than information on certain people.

He had nothing to worry about, really.

He leaned forward, pressing the tips of his fingers against the wooden table.

"... Noel." Ashe discarded all pretense of cheerfulness, letting his own voice drop a few octaves: his natural tone. "...What can you tell me about Claire's relationship with Wilardo Adler?"

Noel blinked one, two times before sighing deeply, leaning back into his chair. However, Ashe could notice his posture did not relax, despite his actions.

"Ahh," The blonde groaned, slouching his shoulders. "I should have known this is what the conversation was going to be about... Silly me..."

The aspiring astronomer moved around in his chair, looking down at his own lap. Ashe could imagine his train of thought: should he be exposing Claire's personal life to someone who wasn't present? He discreetly chewed on his lower lip; without Noel, he might as well be without any support, not to mention information, at all.

Noel looked up at the ceiling, before exhaling deeply.

"I... I've gone to Adler Floriculture with Claire ever since the first time," He began softly, hesitatingly letting the words flow, "That was around two days after you locked yourself up in your dorm. And I have to admit: I was as amazed by Mr. Adler's handiwork as she was. We were both really excited about how beautiful all those arrangements were...!" 

"Yeah,"Ashe murmured between gritted teeth, golden eyes darting to the side, "No matter how much he's aggravated me, yesterday AND today, I can't say he's a bad florist at all."

"Today...?" Noel raised an eyebrow, but ceded after glancing at Ashe's grim expression, "...Anyway, unlike last night, Mr.Adler was manning the counter the first time around. He was crafting small preserved flower arrangements, and you know Claire: she absolutely fell in love with his craft. She bolted to the counter and bombarded Mr. Adler with questions, not even letting him tell her off."

Ashe smiled, still looking away. He could very clearly picture Claire doing this sort of thing. He could also picture Wilardo's slightly exasperated attempts to shut her up. Well, that was Claire Elford for you: once she set her eyes in something she found "pretty", she went into overdrive extremely easily.

"...Eventually, Mr. Adler started answering her questions." Noel continued after confirming Ashe had nothing to add. A very rare occurrance, if he were to be honest. "I was really tense at that time. I really thought he would kick her out of the shop or something. I wouldn't exactly blame him if he had done that... But he didn't. He answered her with a lot of patience. It... Surprised me a lot."

"Someone like him being patient is a very strange mental image," Ashe mumbled, "But I digress. Please do continue!"

At the end of his sentence Ashe forced a grin: one that was once again dismissed by Noel, who simply narrowed his eyes in worry. At that moment, both of their orders arrived; interrupting all interactions and making the atmosphere even more awkward than before.

"Ashe, you're acting really weird..." Noel whispered after making sure the waiters had left, "You've just met Mr. Adler, and now you want to know everything I have on him? Is there something happening...?"

After opening his mouth to bitterly retort something, Ashe resigned himself to giving Noel a stern glare, then having a sip of the glass of wine recently brought to him. Seeing his friend's sudden realization, followed by indignation, of what exactly he had ordered for himself in the middle of the day, the turquoise-haired man rose a single hand, silently ordering the blonde to stay quiet about it.

"Ashe..." Noel murmured pitifully. "What's going on...?"

"Mm," Ashe grumbled in response, setting the now opened glass of wine to the side, "I'm simply worried about what Adler wants from Claire, that's all. She called him by a nickname, and they seemed to be close. I wanted to know more about it. Is there anything wrong about that?"

Noel looked at him, frowning deeply: apparently even more worried after being given his response than before he had one. Ashe had to force himself not to grit his teeth, irritation starting to burn deep inside his stomach. Usually, he would have been overjoyed at the prospect of Noel worrying for him; this situation in particular, however, made him feel somehow... 

Ashamed.

"Ashe..." Noel repeated, with a tinge of anticipation Ashe did not quite understand the reason of, "... Are you jealous of Claire's friendship with Mr. Adler?"

Ashe froze.

"Huh...?" He asked dumbly, a confused smile taking over his lips. Noel stared back at him, serious expression refusing to falter.

"Ashe... Could you possibly have feelings for Claire...?" 

Ashe blinked.

He raised his hand once more, picking up the wine bottle beside his glass.

Ashe pressed the opening of the bottle against his own lips, and turned it over without hesitation.

The burning feeling that overwhelmed his throat and stomach was far, far more preferable than the cold rush of dread that washed over the inside of his brain.

\--

Ashe blinked slowly, looking up at the very familiar ceiling of his dorm room. While his head didn't exactly hurt, it spun in an uncomfortable manner as he looked to the side: judging by the orange light coming from the window, he could probably assume the sun was setting in the outside world. Slowly, he looked at the opposite side: judging by the extremely bemused expression, partly covered by blonde bangs, staring back at him, he could probably assume Noel was royally angry at him.

"Good evening, Ashe." Oh, yes, Ashe could most definitely hear the contained anger in his friend's voice. "Before you say anything, I'd like to tell you we have both missed our lectures today."

"Ugh..." Tightly gripping his head with a single hand, Ashe noticed his braid had been undone by Noel. "...Maybe I should stop pretending I can hold my liquor..."

"...Or maybe," Noel began, a sharp tone to his voice. "You should stop avoiding both your own feelings and others' concerns."

"..." Ashe miserably looked back at his friend, slowly gaining awareness of how utterly pathetic his little scene had been. "... I'm sorry, Noel."

"'Sorry' stopped being enough right around the time you drunkenly passed out in the middle of a restaurant, Ashe." Noel crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in a gesture of both irritation and worry. "Couldn't you just accept you might have feelings, like a normal person would?!"

Feeling his throat close up, Ashe turned his head away, glaring at the darkening sky beyond his window. It was always so easy for people to simply tell him these kinds of things. What they couldn't accept, ironically enough, was that such a simple task was too hard for him to follow them. 

Maybe he was simply defective, and shouldn't be allowed to feel anything. 

That would surely be a comfortable conclusion to this disaster of a scenario.

He felt a hand place itself on his shoulder, as gentle as someone could possibly be. He relaxed: suddenly conscious of just how tense his whole body formerly was.

"Ashe..." Noel sighed, "...If it comforts you, I feel... Something unpleasant coming from Mr. Adler as well."

Ashe paused for a second. So, the oppressive feeling he had been overwhelmed in the past few hours wasn't only something created by his own feelings for Claire...? What was Noel trying to say?

"...That... Doesn't comfort me in the slightest!" Ashe pouted, curling up on his bed and causing Noel to giggle. "You're absolutely terrible at this, Noel!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The blonde gently rubbed the curve of Ashe's shoulder, meekly attempting to reassure him. "It's the truth, though. I most certainly don't enjoy to see how close he's been getting to Claire, and that sentiment has only gotten stronger after you implied he did something to you today."

"Oh, yeah...! " Ashe slapped a hand onto his face, taking a second to process the hungover dizziness that came soon afterwards. "Since you wish for me to be honest with you, I guess I might as well take you up on that proposal... Wilardo Adler came to talk to me before classes today. That's why I came to talk with you in the first place."

"Ohh?" As he turned back over to face Noel, Ashe saw him sit back at the office chair he had dragged over next to the bed, suddenly appearing very intrigued. "Why didn't you tell me this before?! What did he say?"

Once again, Ashe felt his throat tighten. He silently cursed his own uselessness as he slowly rose from the bed, assuming a sitting position. His sweat-matted bangs flatly fell onto his face, and he promptly ignored their presence. 

"Okay, calm down," He sighed, looking down at the floor. "I'm not sure whether we simply bumped into each other or he knew where I was going to be, but..."

"But?!" Noel jumped in his seat, navy eyes sparkling with anticipation, and Ashe couldn't help but be reminded of Claire: these two were very similar, in very unforeseeable ways... It was slightly fascinating. "Don't dawdle on it!"

"He grabbed me and told me he knew I was worried about him and Claire." Ashe grumbled, frowning at Noel. "He said he wanted to talk to me, that's all. I just... Felt something strange about the exchange, so I wished to know how much you and Claire knew about him."

"Hmmm." Noel put a hand over his mouth and looked away pensively. "... Sincerely, I wasn't expecting him to come to you like this. I myself have seen him around the campus, but he never seemed really interested in talking to me."

"Huh? Really?" Ashe tilted his head, suddenly feeling very confused. "That is very strange..."

"Yes, I'm intrigued as well!" The taller male rubbed his chin slightly, glaring at the nearest wall. "... I'd figure the best way for us to discover what he wants from you in specific is... To do as he says and ask him directly...? It doesn't sit quite right with me, but..."

Ashe kicked the blankets over him to the side, throwing his legs towards Noel and fully sitting on his bed. Looking down for a second, He could plainly see that the t-shirt he was currently clad in was, in fact, not the one he had gone out in. He silently prayed to all the gods he had ever studied for the very real possibility of him having drunkenly thrown up in one of his favorite turtlenecks to be false.

"So," He began, pressing a finger to his lips, "What you're telling me to do is... Risk it?" 

Noel turned back to him, his lips slowly expanding into a sly grin. Ashe shuddered; that was a sight he had never expected to see, and hoped never to see again.

"Well, yes and no." Noel chuckled, "I think... It would be less of a risk if, say, you had some backup in case something happened."

Ashe's eyes widened, and, in a second's time, narrowed down to tight, golden slits of pure malice. His lips broke out in a large grin of his own.

"I knew I could count on you, for this, Mr. Levine."

"Anything for you and Claire, Mr. Bradley."

"Especially Claire?"

"...Maybe."


	3. Three's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easier to get angry at others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. I'm still not fully content with it, but... I think I fixed most of the issues that really bugged me. Enjoy!

Ashe ate his lunch quietly, often looking up at Claire and Noel, who sat at the other end of the food court's table, with a slightly guilty look. Both him and Noel had decided to keep quiet about the whole restaurant incident, and, while their plan was still in motion, they would pretend it had never happened in the first place. Claire stared back at her turquoise-haired friend, pursing her lips in confusion and frustration.

"Ughhh," She groaned, gripping the sides of her head in anger. Her bottle of soda threatened to fall over from the sudden movement, but Noel managed to catch it with incredible dexterity. "What is UP with you two?! It's one thing for Ashe to get sick, but you two are acting way too weird!"

"Weird...?" Ashe showed Claire a bright smile, setting his fork aside and crossing his arms over the table. "We are simply a little overwhelmed by the events of yesterday, is all! I do have to apologize to Noel, though, who oh so kindly chose to stay with me until I felt a little better..."

Noel quickly flashed Ashe an "are you serious" glare, before turning to Claire with the sweetest smile he could muster. Ashe felt a chill come up his spine: he seriously could not tell whether Noel was a friend or a foe of his sometimes.

"Hmmm." Claire pouted, sinking into her chair and reaching over to take a bite of her dessert crepe. "Just so you two know, I'm mad at both for not calling me over yesterday! I'd at least help cheer Ashe up, you know?"

Ashe and Noel looked at each other for a single second, then simultaneously burst into laughter: not solely due to sheer the irony of the situation, but also at Claire's childish reaction to their antics. 

"There, there," Noel chuckled, patting the small portion of Claire's back not obstructed by the chair. "Ashe has recovered just fine. Still a little under the weather, but cheerful as always."

"Absolutely so!" Ashe cheered, jumping in his seat. "Besides a teeny tiny headache here and there, you can count me as good as new!"

That was not fully false, but not a full truth, either: Ashe saw himself forced to order a light salad for lunch, due to the nausea attacks he kept suffering from at breakfast. His headaches were just starting to get to manageable levels of discomfort - with some help from the medicine Noel has oh so helpfully brought with him- and so, he was convinced he could pull off a decent show of well-being to others, but especially Claire.

Even though whenever he looked up at Claire, his heart felt like it had transformed into lead.

Noticing the strange glint in Ashe's eyes, Noel quickly piped up, patting Claire on the shoulder in order to get her attention. Ashe sat back, giving his friend a quietly grateful look before turning to his glass of water.

"Claire," Noel started gently, a small, contained smile on his lips, "I have been meaning to ask you something: do you have Mr. Adler's phone number registered somewhere?"

Ashe almost choked on his water: was that approach what Noel considered to be a "good, covert plan" to grab Adler's attention?! His whole body tensed, only relaxing a little bit after seeing Noel's blue eyes rapidly wink in his direction, a wistful smile on the blonde's lips. God, would Ashe pay to know what passed over the amateur astronomer's head sometimes.

"...Huh?" Claire tilted her head quizzically, sitting back up on the chair. "Yeah, he gave me his phone. I text him sometimes! Why the question, though?"

Noel slowly turned to Ashe, a cold, sullen glare matched by both deep blue and bright gold. The situation between Adler and Claire looked more suspicious by the minute, and both of them direly needed some answers.

Noel turned back to Claire, his trademark contained smile back on his features in the blink of an eye.

"Oh, that's perfect!" The blond clapped his hands together - Ashe wondered if he had somehow transmitted his own tics to his friend over time. "You see, I wished to gift a colleague of mine with a small bouquet in a few days. I planned on ordering one personally tonight, but it will sadly coincide with my casino shift. Could you please give me his number so I could place my order in time?"

Ashe sighed, relaxing in his seat. Even after giving him such a huge scare, Noel seemed to know what he was doing. He had put such blatant lying below him, though: and the complete lack of shame in the blonde's expression admittedly frightened the historian a little.

"Ah, yeah!" Claire's typical grin had returned with full force, causing both Noel and Ashe to quietly exhale in relief. "You forgot to pick up his business card, didn't you? Yeah, no problem, Noel! I bet he'll be very honored to make your friend a bouquet!"

"W-why yes... I surely hope so..." Ashe dearly hoped for Claire not to see the awkward turn Noel's grin had taken in the last second. If Ashe knew his friend well enough, Noel had probably taken a business card once before: and forgotten about it completely. Noel subtly reached for his coat's pocket and blushed brightly; Ashe sighed miserably. No matter: they needed Adler's personal number, anyway. " I'll be in your debt, Claire!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Claire replied, happily fiddling with her phone, then handing it to Noel. "You can buy me some fancy red velvet cake later!"

Noel smiled, looking at Ashe from the corners of his eyes. Ashe shuddered.

He was totally having to pay for that cake.

\--

"Huh. Two of you, then?" Wilardo's voice dripped with hostility as soon as both Ashe and Noel walked into their appointed place: an empty plot of land behind the post-graduates'campus. His brown eyes were narrowed into tight slits; trained directly on Noel's figure. "I only called one of you, if I remember right."

"And I," Ashe crossed his arms, golden eyes glaring coldly at the man in front of him, "called him. That's fair, right?"

"Since when is two against one 'fair'?" The florist shrugged, a smile on his face. Ashe tensed; he could noticed the other was not at all fazed by the situation. If anything, he seemed amused. "Eh, all right. I thought you wanted to talk alone, but guess not."

"Whatever." Ashe spat, gritting his teeth. It had only been three days, but he had already been through more than enough of Wilardo's casual attitude. "Out with it! What the hell do you want?"

"Ashe...!"

Noel visibly winced, looking a bit surprised at Ashe's sudden shift in behavior. Ashe looked back at him, glare softening a little. If there was one disadvantage of having Noel around for this conversation -or whatever this was going to devolve into- it was the obligation of maintaining his persona in check. He sighed, trying to relax his tensed shoulders. Couldn't fly off the handle that easy.

The moment his eyes caught sight of Wilardo's once again, his blood boiled at the knowing glance the other gave him. 

"Right to the point. I like that." The navy-haired man looked to the side, his hair clasp making a jingling noise that echoed through the empty space. "First of all, I wanted to say that you're really fucking obvious. The only reason Claire hasn't figured you out yet is because she's as bright as a busted lamp."

"Claire isn't--!" Noel shouted, stepping forward; Ashe slammed an arm against the blonde's chest, pushing him back to his first position.

"Focus, Noel!" Ashe chided, his voice low and sharp. "What do you mean, 'figured me out'? I don't have it in me to care about your riddles right now." 

"That happy-go-lucky mask of yours falls real easy, huh?" Wilardo laughed humorlessly: a low, raspy noise that did nothing but aggravate Ashe even more. "That's another thing you're obvious with. We can deal with your little schoolgirl crush, but I'm not gonna look the other way if you're gonna be an asshole about it."

"I know nothing of what you're talking about," Ashe huffed, instinctively looking to the ground: only to mentally slap himself for such an obvious tell. He could hear Wilardo chuckle again. "The first part is none of your business, but, 'an asshole'? Whatever could you mean?"

The florist frowned even deeper at Ashe's smarmy tone concerning the last sentence, stepping forward with his hands inside his crimson hoodie's pockets. Ashe could see the faint outline of an object in the loose piece of clothing, and let his hand subtly slide to his own slacks' side pockets: feeling for the handle of the switchblade he had brought in case things went out of control.

"Look," Wilardo started, his voice taking a deep, cautionary tone to it, "I've watched you from the corridors for a long time. And I have to say, I can smell types like you from a mile away. You can't fool me like you can Claire and the guy next to you."

"What...?" Noel muttered, eyes widening. Ashe felt a cold weight set itself in his stomach. "Fool me...? You've known Ashe for a couple days! What do you know?"

"More than you, apparently." Wilardo shrugged, smirking.

"Don't listen to him," Ashe muttered through teeth clenched so tightly he could feel them grind against each other. "What would I even get from lying to two of the very few people I can call 'friends'?!"

"Maybe you should ask yourself that. And besides, you both came here looking for a fight." Wilardo shrugged, smiling smugly as he nodded his head towards Ashe's pocket containing the switchblade. Ashe winced. "You've known me for a couple of days too, haven't you, Bradley? What do you have against me? That time I took my time making sure you wouldn't fuck up my flowers?"

Ashe stepped forward, golden eyes fixed on fiery brown ones, shoulders as tense as they could get. He had to admit that, to an outsider, he was probably overreacting: but the manner the man in front of Ashe made his blood boil with fury and his stomach turn in a certain type of dread drove the historian up the wall since the moment they had first met. 

There was something wrong with this man, and Ashe wanted that "something" far, far away from Claire. Claire was naive, trusting: while it was wonderful for her to be that way, not many people in the world were deserving of such kindness. Ashe dreaded what could happen to her if someone took the time to get closer, managed to get alone time with her, and then...

No, that wouldn't happen.

Ashe wouldn't let that happen.

"...Stay away from Claire, you absolute maniac." Ashe growled, putting a single finger against Wilardo's chest and pressing hard. "If you shut your mouth and lay off of her, I'll have no issue with you."

Wilardo's eyes widened; and he took a step back. Ashe huffed, feeling proud of his intimidation attempt for a second, before hearing the other's pleased, conceited chuckle.

"...How much of a hypocrite even are you, Bradley?" Wilardo leaned forward, glaring up -was he always this short?- at Ashe's trembling figure. "The funny thing is, I've gotta say the same to you. Everyone here would be way better off without your two-faced ass fucking around."

Ashe froze. Was he hearing things correctly? Was Adler calling him the dangerous one? The turquoise-haired historian took a step back himself, burying his face in one of his hands. Was this for real? 

Was he being called dangerous by the man who calls Claire names behind her back and mocked, let alone physically assaulted her friends?

Ashe laughed, his shrill, loud voice echoing over and over in the empty land. He laughed until his breath could no longer handle it, and he coughed as he bent over, a hand over his stomach. To him, the situation had escalated to absurd levels of... Well, absurdity. He had come to meet Wilardo to tell him off, say he was too dangerous to be left alone with an innocent like Claire. And now, he was the one being accused of such behavior? That was absolutely preposterous.

Or at least, that was what he chose to believe.

"Dangerous...? ME?!" Ashe wheezed, ending his sentence in an irate shout. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Adler? You're the one acting weird to everyone you meet, and I'm the one Claire should be afraid of?!"

"Ashe..." Noel's voice quietly piped up as a gentle, shaky hand rested atop Ashe's shoulder. "Ashe, please... You're losing control..."

Ashe took a deep breath, managing to release at least some of his tension. Noel was right: he was losing control, and way too fast for his own comfort. He knew Wilardo's accusations had struck a very particular nerve; and the fact that he had let himself be affected by that man alone made his head spin with rage.

He looked down at Wilardo's cocky smile, and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what he needed to do. 

"Noel, I'm sorry..." He gently picked up Noel's hand, slowly removing it from his shoulder. The skinship made him feel absolutely nothing. "...But you should go now."

"Huh..?"

\--

Once Noel had reluctantly left the scene, ushered by a nervous Ashe, the turquoise-haired historian walked back into the empty plot of land with stiff, heavy steps, finding Wilardo causally sitting against the wall; the strong scent of nicotine immediately entered Ashe's nostrils, causing him to gag as he approached.

"Geez," Ashe groaned, covering his nose with the back of his hand, "Can't you smoke your filthy goddamn cancer sticks after we're done?"

Wilardo looked up to him, slowly getting back on his feet. He flicked the cigarette away, stomping on it with the heel of his boot. He stared at Ashe for a solid moment, examining the historian with caution, before chucking softly.

"Interesting to see how much you change once your friend's gone." The florist grinned, in a mix of malice and sincere enjoyment. "Even the look in your eye changes... What a snake."

"Adler," Ashe said firmly, his voice dropping more than a few octaves, "You said too much."

"Did I now?" Wilardo tilted his head to the side, shrugging lightly. "You were the one who called him over. I just went with the schedule. But, point taken. I won't talk to them anymore."

"Hmm, thanks...?" Ashe mumbled awkwardly, making Wilardo laugh. "Anyway, don't evade the subject, here. If I'm dangerous to Claire, then I have the right to claim the same of you!"

"That you do," the florist nodded, stepping forward until he was inches away from Ashe. "And I, having seen how much you badmouth and threaten people whenever you think you're by yourself in the corridors, have the right to say two-faced trashbags like you shouldn't be trying to take advantage of a naive girl just to get into her pants."

Ashe's eyes widened. 

His body acting faster than his own mind, he felt himself tackle Wilardo to the ground. Once he was safely straddling the other's stomach, Ashe gritted his teeth, slamming his right fist against Wilardo's face once, twice, uncountable times.

"You... you fucking bastard...!" Ashe screamed desperately, voice shaking. "You don't know anything about me, and you don't know anything about Claire either! You don't get to just come around and fuck everything up!"

Finishing with his short rush of adrenaline in a minute or so, Ashe leaned forward, slamming both of his fists on the ground, more than slightly frustrated by the dirt comforting the impact of the gesture. His eyes burned in a way he couldn't describe: and his heart had tightened painfully inside his chest: a growing agony that felt worse with each beat. All of a sudden, it was difficult to breathe; his chest rising and falling in short, painful bursts.

"...You know I'm right." Wilardo murmured quietly, his head still turned to the side from Ashe's previous onslaught, "You're garbage, and you know that. I've heard from others. I've seen it myself. It's what you are."

Ashe's lips parted for a second, a very undesirable answer forming on the tip of his tongue, before he forced himself into silence.

"I...!" Ashe choked, his lungs feeling like they could give out at any moment. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh, but you do." Wilardo turned his head back up, a black eye quite visible on his features. He smiled in a way Ashe had not seen before: a wistful, knowing smile. "...Huh. You're more earnest than I thought."

"Wh..." Ashe's voice shook in a rather pathetic way, causing him to cough in order to correct it. Wilardo's smile did not falter. "What the hell are you saying...? I don't understand...!"

The teal-haired man was painfully aware of the humiliating amount of panic he had let slip through his voice. Why was he even bothering to open up to such a bizarre man? Was he that desperate for answers?

That was a new low, even for Ashe.

Wilardo took another moment to look up at him, glare softening into a cautious, attentive look. Ashe winced, suddenly a little flustered; the other's gaze was a little too prying for his tastes. More than that, the florist's gaze had some kind of... Thoughtfulness to it, and Ashe could not comprehend it at all. It made his skin crawl in a way he was not prepared to deal with at the moment.

"That's fine." The man's voice was soft, as if attempting to be reassuring. Ashe was unsure whether it worked or not. "Here."

With that single word, Wilardo leaned forward, lightly pressing his lips to Ashe's. The historian's eyes widened, and he shuddered in place, not daring to move. 

Suddenly, absolutely nothing about anything made sense to Ashe anymore.

"Hah," Wilardo scoffed, the vibration of his voice reverberating onto the skin of Ashe's lips, "That's a cute expression on you. Well, so long."

He pulled back, leaving an extremely confused and somehow flustered Ashe to wonder about the situation for a second. Until, that is, Wilardo's fist fiercely crashed against Ashe's side, throwing him to the ground in an awkward angle.

Ashe screamed, curling up from the intense pain that now overwhelmed his senses. Looking up, he saw Wilardo's figure prop himself up from the ground, dust himself off and leave, waving lightly as he left. He groaned, reaching out to the other with the arm that was not currently busy tightly gripping his injured side.

"I," Ashe hissed through gritted teeth, "I fucking hate you." 

Wilardo's figure, already almost out of Ashe's line of sight, shrugged.


	4. Path of Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes wouldn't be so common if there wasn't something tempting about committing them.
> 
> Some are more willing to indulge than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here it is: the dreaded Smut Chapter (TM). Of course, this is the first one of many, but hey.
> 
> I'm nervous, but this is fanfic, we die like men.

Quietly watching the sun rise from the edge of his window, Ashe sighed deeply; tiredly lulling his head from side to side onto his crossed arms and silently feeling his freshly braided hair belatedly follow his movements.

It had been three days since that disastrous meetup with Adler: and Ashe hadn't been able to sleep well since then, waking up at consecutively earlier times. At this particular day, the young historian had woken up at 4:45 AM, around one hour and a half before his alarm even thought of ringing. He had already bathed, dressed himself, and even read the last third of a small book about the Holy Roman Empire: sleep-deprived and with nothing to do, Ashe had resigned himself to watching the admittedly beautiful sunrise, and miserably think about his life.

With a now dulled pain prickling the side of his hip, Ashe slowly closed his eyes, the sight of the rising sun fading from his vision as he absentmindedly grazed his lips with the tip of his tongue. Somehow, after three whole days of violently rinsing his mouth, he could still feel the disgusting taste of tobacco overtake his tastebuds. Of course, Ashe was not stupid to the point of being unaware that this was probably one hundred percent psychological on his part: and yet, that made him feel even tenser about the past week or so.

Ashe grimaced: the touch of his own tongue more than enough for him to be reminded of what he had dearly wished hadn't happened. A dry, quick, yet strangely tender touch, charged with the taste and scent of Wilardo Adler's repulsive cigarettes; all rushed into Ashe's mind as quickly as it had happened.

He rolled his head to the side of an arm, tapping at his phone on the nightstand with the other: 5:35. Getting up from the windowsill, the historian groaned in an agony that surpassed the pain Wilardo's punch - which seemingly had missed all bones and organs, hitting only the lean muscle in his stomach - had left him with.

This was bothering him far too much, Ashe thought, sitting on his recently-made bed and tumbling over to the side, nestling his head into the pillow he landed onto. It was simply a kiss: one that made no sense in the context of a fight following a mental breakdown, but, excluding that, it was a pretty simple touch to the lips. Such a thing should not get such a rise out of him, and the fact that it did for at least four days humiliated him more than the fact that he technically lost a fistfight.

And yet, he concluded as he closed his eyes and smushed his face into the soft feathered pillow, emitting a low whiny noise: it was simply not leaving his mind. Not just the kiss, either: the sheer tenderness in Wilardo's expression and voice before the act made Ashe feel both confused and irritated in a manner he had never experienced before.

He felt pitied.

He felt humiliated.

\--

"This time, there's no way they'll let you in, Bradley."

Ashe huffed angrily, being unable to retort due to his breath being drained by running all the way through the dorms and post-grad campus, in a futile attempt to get to class in time. It was almost funny, even: he had spent so much time awake in the morning, just to fall back asleep and miss class by 20 whole minutes.

He wasn't even surprised when Wilardo came to mock him once more, after he almost crashed into the florist in a corridor.

"No, seriously," The navy-haired man raised a thick eyebrow at Ashe, a crooked smile in his lips. Ashe could still see a dark mark staining the other's olive skin, right below his eye. "You won't make it this time. Just let it go."

He extended a hand to Ashe, who promptly slapped it away.

"I don't need your help, Adler," Ashe hissed breathlessly, "I can get up on my own."

The teal-haired historian leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath before straightening himself up. Wilardo quietly watched him, casually slipping his now red-tinted hand back into his hoodie's pocket.

Ashe glared down at the man in front of him: he had purposefully avoided Wilardo's usual smoking spots for the last three days. He had forgotten to do so in that particular day: and sure enough, there the asshole was. Looking up at him with his usual bored, analytical gaze, one that made Ashe tense up and clench his jaw.

It wasn't fair: for him to have Ashe completely figured out while all the other could do was wonder.

Ashe dusted himself off, adjusted his messenger bag's strap firmly on his shoulders, and sighed deeply: preparing to walk away. He was most likely going to be banned from the first period's classes, but that was preferable to staying near Adler for any longer.

"Let it go," Wilardo spoke up, eyes fixed on Ashe. "And come with me for a sec."

Taking his hand off his pocket once again, Wilardo reached for Ashe's wrist, wrapping his fingers around it with an awkward amount of care: Ashe wondered whether the florist was attempting to make up for the violent gesture the last time this exact scenario occurred. The historian pulled his wrist back, and Wilardo's hand simply followed suit, not tightening its grip nor letting go.

"Yeah," Ashe grumbled, a displeased frown forming in his brow. "Because the last time you wanted to talk to me in private went _very well_."

"Hey, not my fault." Wilardo gently tugged at Ashe's arm, raising an eyebrow. Ashe refused to budge. "It'd have gone better if you hadn't tried to, you know. Outnumber me."

"Can you blame me, though?" The historian asked honestly, his voice rising in volume as he tried -and failed- to wrestle his arm away from Wilardo's grasp. "You were acting weirdly hostile the whole time!"

Wilardo sighed deeply, frowning in irritation as he let go of Ashe's wrist: something that filled the historian with a wave of sadistic, vengeful joy. The florist crossed his arms, reddish-brown eyes glaring up at Ashe's narrow yellow ones with a hint of frustration.

"If it consoles you any," The man muttered, voice gruff, "I'm not out to diss you this time. Just wanna talk about what happened. And, unless you want me to do it in public, I say we take it to the back of the campus again."

Ashe blinked at him, expression blank. "What happened"? Was Adler truly this bothered by the events of three days prior to want to talk to him in private about it? Ashe sighed; unsure as to whether the concept comforted or unnerved him. He put his hands in his hips, looking beyond Wilardo and into the corridor.

"What is there for us to talk about...?" He muttered, voice barely above a whisper, "You just went off your rocker and kissed me after I freaked out and hit you. It's not exactly a thing worth conversing about."

Wilardo's eyes widened, then squeezed shut; the florist sighed, even louder than before, covering his face with a hand and rubbing his temples with this thumb and middle finger. Ashe tilted his head to the side.

"Oh my God," The navy-haired man groaned, a sudden misery to his tone Ashe could not quite understand, "This is never going to end. Let's just go."

Wilardo patted Ashe's shoulder, signing to the corridor with his head and setting out walking. Despite his common sense screaming at him, Ashe followed: suddenly intrigued by the amount of frustration the florist had started showing in the past minute.

His side ached faintly as he walked; he promptly decided to ignore it.

\--

Arriving to the very same empty plot of land behind the post-graduates' campus as the last rendezvous, Wilardo turned back to Ashe, expression still tight with frustration. He leaned against the wall, and gestured for Ashe to do the same. Placing his back against the cold concrete, the historian looked down at the other: he towered over Wilardo, whose eyebrows lined up almost perfectly with Ashe's shoulders.

And yet, he didn't feel taller at all: Wilardo's presence drew Ashe's gaze downwards almost naturally.

As if they were on equal grounds in a strange, non-physical manner.

"Bradley," Wilardo started, huffing before resuming. "You might be more earnest than I thought, but you're also a huge dumbass."

"What?" Ashe asked, incredulous, "With this 'earnest' thing again? The hell do you--"

"It pisses me off."

Before he could even start his confused protest, Wilardo was already slamming his hands onto the wall, one at each side of Ashe's head, fiery brown eyes glaring at golden ones with a deep, repressed anger. A single hand made its way down, roughly cupping the underside of Ashe's chin and leading his head down a few degrees.

Moments later, a warm sensation spread across his lips, impeding him from speaking: a dry, yet strangely soft mouth pressed against his, moving slowly against the sensitive skin: as it tentatively.

Pulling back maybe an inch or two, Wilardo glared at him once more, staring up at wide golden eyes. Ashe quickly averted his gaze down, and quickly noticed how closely the two of them were pressed together, forced against the cold concrete wall.

His brain desperately screamed for him to just push the other onto the ground and make a run for it. It should be relatively easy, he pondered in a panic: Wilardo was a good half foot shorter than he was, and his build wasn't that much stronger than Ashe's own.

Yet, the more he tried to order his body to move, the more trapped under the other he felt.

"...That's for trying to ambush me then punching me in the face," Wilardo whispered, chuckling quietly at the other's panicked reaction. The heat of his breath, along with the faint scent of wine that came with it, suddenly felt very overwhelming. "And for sucking at reading the atmosphere."

Ashe gawked, his mind drawing a blank in the 'witty response' department. Taking the opportunity, Wilardo closed the gap between them once again, a little more roughly: Ashe felt the other's teeth bump onto his own. A thumb lightly pressed onto Ashe's chin, gently pulling it down, and Ashe could feel something soft, warm, and strongly tasting like nicotine touch his tongue.

No.  
No, this couldn't be happening.

Ashe felt his head spin, and squeezed his eyes shut; at the very least, he could try to pretend this was someone else. Someone who wasn't of the same gender, wasn't his enemy, and wasn't _Wilardo fucking Adle_ r.

You know, the guy who had been doing nothing but mocking him for a whole week?

(A head of cerulean hair and a bright smile flashed inside Ashe's mind, causing his body to shiver against the tender touch for a second, only to be promptly swept away.

 _No, she doesn't deserve this_.)

He felt a knee forcefully push in between his legs, both holding him in place against the wall and causing friction in spots he most definitely did not want to feel friction in at that moment: he couldn't help but shudder, tongue instinctively pressing and curling against his assailant's. Wilardo hummed contentedly, the vibration of his voice sending chills straight to Ashe's spine.

"Nngh...!" Ashe broke off the kiss, pulling back violently and hitting the back of his head against the wall. The dull thud that reached the historian's ears preceded a sharp surge of pain. "Ah-owww..."

"Don't move so fast." Wilardo looked up at him, stopping to lick his lips. Ashe could not help but have his eyes follow the tip of the other's tongue. "Don't want you to get hurt then blame this on me. Got enough on my plate already."

The turquoise-haired man looked up, head spinning due to more reasons than just the blow to his head. Noticing that Wilardo did not seem like he was going to make any more moves, he sighed deeply: and just as deeply regretted his action. All of the sensations he had successfully managed to push back until that moment came rushing back to him once he tried to relax: The lack of breath; the almost scorching heat radiating off of their bodies; the taste of wine, along with a hint of tobacco, that filled his mouth; it all Ashe both nausea and a faint sense of unexplained excitement.

It felt like too much; and yet, so far from enough. It had been so, so long since Ashe had allowed someone to get this physical, this close, with him; even if it was a person he had nothing but animosity towards, he could not help but feel... Drawn towards all this attention.

He silently cursed the slight feeling of hunger starting to grow deep inside him.

"...Bradley," Ashe slowly turned his gaze back down, meeting Wilardo's expression of slight concern. "You alive up there?"

"Huh...?" Ashe raised an eyebrow, anger suddenly eating away at him once more. "Why would you care if I'm alive or not...?"

"Don't wanna make out with a corpse, thanks," The shorter man replied flatly, casually picking up a stray lock of his short, matted navy hair and putting it behind his ear. "I thought you were pretty into it, but if it's so awful you'll shut the fuck down, I'll just leave."

"W-wait," Ashe stammered, feeling his heart race and his face heat up. His mind was drawing blank after blank, and if was insanely frustrating to someone so logically oriented. His brain cells seemed to have disconnected from each other, and he felt extremely stupid. "'Pretty into it'...? I'm...!"

"...Not?" It was Wilardo's turn to raise an eyebrow, a smile creeping up the corner of his lips: not one of mockery, Ashe noticed, but an almost awkward smile. "You know, when someone isn't into it they usually push the other person _away_ , not pull them _in_."

The navy-haired man causally pointed down, and Ashe's gaze followed suit: the historian's own hands were balled into fists, fingers so tightly wrapped around the soft crimson fabric of Wilardo's hoodie his knuckles had gone white.

Ashe yelped, quickly releasing his hands and backing away into the wall. He covered his face in his hands, feeling an almost feverish heat radiate from his own skin. Was he so lost in his desperate hunger for affections he forgot his own pride as a man...?

To his surprise, Wilardo did not laugh at him, nor did he offer harsh words of mockery in order to humiliate him further: instead, the other male approached him once more, gently grabbing Ashe's wrists and removing them from the front of the other's face.

Upon looking at Ashe's widened golden eyes and reddening cheeks, Wilardo Adler smiled.

"You know," He started, his usually rough and raspy voice smooth and low. "If you keep making faces like these, I'll want to do more than just fuck around with you."

Ashe's eyes widened. What the hell was Adler saying, now?! How, when, why did their dynamic become like this? How could a whole week of passive-aggressive fighting over a woman's affections culminate in this?!

And why, pray tell, was Ashe so reluctant in fighting back against this growing madness?!

"I....Er...!" He stuttered pathetically, desperately trying to find something to protest with. "Adler... I...!"

"You what?" Just as quickly as it had appeared, Wilardo's smile was gone; replaced by a slightly irritated expression. Was he getting impatient? "Do you want me to keep going, or should I go?"

"I..."

Ashe paused for a few seconds: heart beating so fast he could swear it hurt deep in his chest. He took a shallow breath, feeling Wilardo's own puff of warm air directly onto his lips, and looked away, mentally wincing as he felt himself simply nodding his head in quiet, reluctant consent.

He couldn't let go. Not now.

Even if this was the worst mistake he had done in years.

"...Fine." Ashe whispered, hopefully loud enough for Wilardo, and only Wilardo, to hear, "Do what you need to do..."

From the corner of his eyes, Ashe could see Wilardo's reddish-brown irises shrink in surprise, before his own chin was turned back forward.

"Dangerous words, there."

A now familiar pair of dry, chapped lips crashed onto his own. Ashe's arms, still in Wilardo's grasp, were hastily thrown over the navy-haired florist's shoulders, and the historian could feel the soft touch of a hand cupping his cheek, a thumb lightly pressing against his skin as he opened his mouth, his own tongue meeting Wilardo's halfway through.

To be frank, Ashe had no idea why he had even said yes to that bizarre, yet strangely hypnotic situation. He had genuinely hated Adler's guts up until that moment: and now, he pulled the very same man closer, relishing the sudden feeling of the other's hands grabbing his hips in a way that made him feel a little too feminine, but far too excited for his own good.

"Ah... A-Adler," he gasped, having to stop to shyly lick away the thin string of saliva still connecting him and Wilardo, "Can you... Not hold me there...?"

"...Eh?" The other looked down quizzically, then slowly removed his hands from their resting place. "Sure, but why? You self-conscious or something?"

"... Shut up." Ashe looked to the side, still not comfortable enough to look Wilardo in the eye, "Just don't, okay? I'm already letting you do too much."

"That I can agree with," The navy-haired florist sighed, looking down thoughtfully, a small smirk growing in his lips. "But now I need a place for my hands."

"W-why not just try theeeEE--!" Ashe retorted, just to be interrupted by the other's hands sliding up and inside his turtleneck: frigid, rough, slightly calloused fingers snaking up onto soft, pale feverish skin. "F-fuck, you're freezing...! What are you..."

"Feels warm." Wilardo leaned forward, whispering his words into Ashe's ear and causing the historian to visibly shiver. "You sure you're not into this? Your skin's burning up."

"I... I... Aah," Ashe whined, squeezing his eyes shut; the feeling of Wilardo's fingers dancing and oh so gently drawing patters around his bare sides -the bruised spot aching in a way that should definitely not feel this pleasant- a little overwhelming, "That's... A low blow..."

"Sure is," Wilardo chuckled, grinning up at the other, "But you really don't seem like you mind it that much. Bet I could go even lower."

Without giving Ashe any time to process the meaning of his words, the navy-haired man nestled his head in the crook of Ashe's neck, chuckling quietly before nudging the other's braid and turtleneck away and gently pressing his teeth against the soft, pale skin. Ashe whimpered, arching his back and tightly holding onto the other's shoulders, the friction between their bodies making the hot, electric sensations even more intense.

After Ashe's breath stabilized into heavy, loud panting, Wilardo took another bite, just hard enough to lightly mark the spot red, and hummed contentedly at the feeling of Ashe's body grinding against his even harder.

"See," he huffed a laugh, kissing the now reddening teeth marks he had just produced, "Told you I could do worse."

"...A-Adler..." Ashe gasped out, arms now completely wrapped around Wilardo's neck, pulling the other closer, "... You're the fucking worst..."

"I wouldn't call out my name like that," the florist whispered, taking the opportunity to nibble at Ashe's ear. Ashe couldn't help but note the breathier, quieter tone of his voice. "Could give me some nasty ideas."

Ashe bit his lip: amidst all of the fog that now plagued his brain, he still wondered how exactly things had gotten this far. The mockery, the fight, the kiss, and now that - nothing about that chain of events seemed to really make sense in his mind. It wasn't how things were supposed to go at all, was it?

All he wanted was for Wilardo Adler to leave Claire Elford alone.

This was going far beyond that now, was it not...?

"--?!" His thoughts were rudely interrupted by Wilardo's knee gently rubbing against his crotch, a burning sensation even stronger than before spreading like wildfire inside his lower stomach. He bit his lip, hips moving against the gentle pressure. "O...Oh... Since when was I..."

"Around a couple minutes ago." Wilardo answered his incomplete question, pulling back from Ashe's now bruised neck and giving out a breathy, somewhat dazed laugh. "How oblivious even are you? You've been pressing against me this whole time, and now you're _surprised_ you got hard?"

Taking a second to settle down, Ashe looked downwards and felt like dying of pure shame: true enough, he was not only completely erect, but it strained against his black leggings in a rather flashy manner.

'Ah... Oh, no..." He muttered miserably though gritted teeth: shame, anger and pure arousal all burning so hot inside him he felt like spontaneously combusting right then and there. "How am I gonna get back to class like this...?"

After around ten seconds without a response, Ashe looked back up: and saw Wilardo staring down, appearing not only thoughtful, but slightly entranced.

"...I wasn't planning on that," he mumbled absentmindedly, "...Huh..."

He blinked for a second before looking back up and removing his hands from under Ashe's turtleneck, making sure his nails scraped the entire length of Ashe's torso on the way down, making the historian squirm against the wall, whining in shame. He stared directly at Ashe's wide golden eyes, a puzzling smile on his lips.

"You..." He hesitated, catching Ashe by surprise, "You can't worry about something that won't be there at the time of class, right?"

"What... Do you mean," Ashe questioned slowly, a feeling of dread now mixed into his already very unpalatable arousal/anger/embarrassment cocktail. "What are you planning now...?"

Wilardo sighed deeply, his smile gone once again. He took a step back, completely freeing Ashe - shouldn't he feel good about that?- and closed his eyes.

Before Ashe could come up with another question, however, Wilardo's figure dropped down: when Ashe's gaze caught up with him, the florist was on one knee, looking up at the turquoise-haired historian with a sly grin on his face.

"Back up against the wall again," Wilardo ordered, "I'm taking care of it."

Ashe froze. Was he really implying...?

"Are you crazy?!" Ashe all but screamed, feeling his whole body tremble, "Here?!"

"If you want to walk somewhere else showing off a pitched tent," Wilardo shrugged, "Then be my damn guest. Didn't think you were into showing off like that, though."

"First of all, I am NOT, and-!" Ashe felt Wilardo push him back against the campus' wall from below. He gasped at the feeling of the florist's hands against his hips again, and felt absolutely helpless. "...J-just do it quickly."

"Can't promise anything," the florist smiled up at Ashe, hooking a finger onto the historian's leggings and underwear in a single gesture and slowly pulling them down, eventually revealing an already slick erection. "God, you're wet already..."

"S-shut the hell up!" Ashe stammered, voice shaking in embarrassment and, shamefully enough, anticipation. "Don't just stare!"

"Ha, sorry. Getting to it in a sec. Have to say, though," Wilardo chucked breathlessly, running the tip of his index finger through the length of Ashe's member, "I've got a lot more to deal with than I thought, here. Eight incher - no, more? What a surprise."

Ashe keened in pure embarrassment, covering his face with his hands in a futile attempt to hide just how red the area above his neck had become. Wilardo gave out a sincere, joyous laugh at the sight.

"Sorry again," He said casually, very cautiously wrapping his fingers around Ashe's dick, "I'm taking it seriously from now on."

"Y-you better!" Ashe huffed, breath erratic, "You're the one who roped me into this after all!"

"Yeah." Wilardo mumbled, looking up: a quiet sense of shame tainting both his voice and expression. "I know."

An awkward moment passed as both Ashe and Wilardo basked in the ridiculous situation they had managed to find themselves in, before Wilardo leaned down, pressing his lips against the tip of Ashe's erection. Ashe gasped loudly, quickly covering his mouth with one hand.

"No need," Wilardo muttered, the words vibrating against Ashe's entire length, "I choose to hang out here for a reason. Unless you scream bloody murder, no one's gonna hear it. Unless you wanna tell me you're that loud?"

With these words, Wilardo let his lips part, taking the entire tip of Ashe's erection inside; tongue gently rubbing against the underside. Ashe cursed loudly against his hand, not really bothering with muffling his noises. Taking that as a good sign, the florist sucked gently on it, tongue now moving in small circles around the slit.

"F-fuck," Ashe's hips twitched wildly, his whole body trembling with an amount of stimulation he hadn't had allowed himself to experience in years. Wilardo made a contented noise at the feeling, making Ashe' back arch in response to the gentle vibration. "Ah, it's... warm..."

After a long moment of teasing, the florist slowly started moving forward, taking inch upon inch of Ashe's length into his throat. Ashe hissed curses and breathless encouragement at him, a slender hand having found its way atop Wilardo's head and pulling it closer. The historian's fingers tangled themselves in the other's hair; curling around thick, matted locks.

"Ad-Adler, please," Ashe gasped and moaned, more fervently as more of him was taken into the florist's mouth, " Just move, please...!"

Wilardo hummed, slowly pulling back. Ashe cried out in pleasure, only to finish with a note of disappointment as Wilardo completely pulled out, licking his smirking lips and pulling his hair back with one hand. As he started protesting, however, the navy-haired man leaned down, taking him in his hand once again and licking a long strip from the base to the very slit of Ashe's erection. Ashe's back arched, making his head lightly hit the wall once again.

"Ah... Adler..." He whispered, rather dreamily, his free hand pressing against the concrete wall as if hanging on for dear life, "Don't tease, you...!"

Wilardo looked up; meeting Ashe's golden, hazy eyes for a second. Even in his heated daze, the historian couldn't help but notice how utterly elated the other looked.

Roughly stroking Ashe's erection with his hand, Wilardo planted kisses all along its length, sucking and very cautiously nibbling on small patches of pale, blazing hot skin. Ashe moaned curses at him, berating him for taking his time, but it was clear to both of them just how absolutely heavenly this felt for the haughty historian: he trembled and squirmed under Wilardo's every touch, hips twitching whenever the florist managed to find a sweet spot.

Wilardo looked like he was having the time of his life, smiling as he kissed and licked Ashe's pulsing length.

"Oh... Ad...ler..." Ashe called out, his voice already slightly hoarse from use, "I... I'm getting a bit close, so, please..."

"...'Kay."

Wilardo didn't need any other instructions: he promply took Ashe's length into his mouth once again, pushing as far as his gag reflex could allow. As Ashe looked down questioningly, his tightened grip on Wilardo's scalp an unsaid question, the other simply blinked, humming in consent.

The next second was a flurry of movement: Ashe grabbed Wilardo's hair, navy and ginger locks alike, and slowly started swaying his hips back and forth, lightly thrusting into his partner's throat.

"Ahh, fuck, fuck... Adler...!" Ashe cried out, completely losing control of both his voice and his hips. "H-harder, please...!"

Obeying his request, Wilardo sucked harder, making sure his tongue carressed every part of Ashe's erection at least once. The historian's shouts barely resembled words, and it was with a loud, sudden moan that Ashe got pushed to his limit, arching his back in an almost painful angle and pulling at Wilardo's hair in the opposite direction with uncontrolled force.

"A-Adler, n-no, pull out--" The historian gasped breathlessly as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed over him. He felt the other's throat tighten, and his eyes widened as his hazy mind processed the implications. "I... Ahhh... no...d-don't..."

Wilardo tightly grabbed Ashe's hips, pushing them against the wall in order to keep the other from moving. He pushed his head forward, freeing his hair from Ashe's now shaky grip, and slowly moved his head back and forth, resuming the movement Ashe's hips had started.

"...Ahh..." Ashe moaned weakly, trembling gently against Wilardo's mouth in an overstimulated haze. "A...dler...!"

With one last swallowing motion, Wilardo slowly pulled out, his lips making a popping sound when leaving Ashe's length. The navy-haired man turned his head to the side and coughed a few times, before looking up at Ashe and slowly licking his smirking, white-stained lips clean.

Ashe had never felt so strongly like dying before that single moment.

"Well," Wilardo started, voice a little raspier than the usual, "Here you go. How did that feel?"

Wilardo took his hands off of Ashe's hips in order to prop himself back on his feet; the movement suddenly alerting Ashe of just how much his legs were shaking.

"Ah... It..." Ashe gawked; not only was his brain still not in working condition, he felt the absurdity of the situation slowly coming back to him. "It... Was something...?"

"...Good talk." Wilardo raised an eyebrow, chuckling at Ashe's blank expression. He swiftly took his phone from his hoodie's pocket, pressing the button on its side "Almost time for second period classes. You should go, if you don't wanna miss that too."

Ashe blinked, before hurriedly fixing his turtleneck -thankfully, it seemed that Adler was kind enough to mark him below the limit of his collar- and pulling his leggings back up. Wilardo laughed once again, a gentle smile creeping up his lips.

"I have Genetics today, so guess I'll have to go too." The florist looked up at the yellowing sky, his smile now a little wistful. "...Hey, here's a gift before we go."

"A gift...?" Ashe turned to the other, feeling slightly puzzled.

In a swift movement, Wilardo pulled Ashe by the collar, lips pressing onto the historian's with a surprising amount of gentleness. A bitter, slightly saltine taste pricked at the tip of Ashe's tongue, and he moaned into the deepening kiss; a red hot rush of blood washing over him once again as he felt his own taste on Wilardo Adler's lips and tongue.

The worst part of it was that it didn't taste half as bad as Ashe expected.

"...There we go." Wilardo smiled against Ashe's lips before completely letting go of the other. "I actually really wanted to have a serious talk, but now my throat kinda hurts. Try not to fuck it so hard next time."

Ashe simply watched as Wilardo walked away, still too overwhelmed and shocked to simply ignore everything and leave as well. He looked at his own phone: there was still half an hour before second period.

He sighed deeply, attempting to process all that he had experienced for the whole week.

_This is getting way off the rails now._


End file.
